


Shake the Guilt Off

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Gay Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Tattoos, Vegas Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Merlin wakes up in a bed in Vegas with a bloke. And because it's Vegas, it's exactly what you expect.





	Shake the Guilt Off

* * *

Merlin wakes up in a bed soft as a cloud and smelling faintly of what might be lilac or lavender or some other purple-flower detergent. He catalogues this, and the pulsation behind his eyes, the frankley too-soft sheets against his sweaty skin, and a rawness that tells him he  _ definitely  _ had a good night. There’s a noise in his ear that his brain isn’t awake enough to process, and his mouth taste like cotton ass. He needs to pee, and drink a tall glass of water, and probably shower. The idea of leaving the bed though, is daunting and unwelcome.

His bladder is insistent however, so he flings the covers off, ignoring the groan beside him and stumbles over pants and boots towards the bathroom. Walking proves to be a bit more difficult than Merlin anticipated and he all but crashes on to the toilet, moaning as his bladder finally empties. If he sits there a few moments longer, just to make the world stop spinning, well his partner is still asleep. By the time stands he’s managed to sort of sober up, thanks to cold tile, cold porcelain, and cold air. The sight that greets him in the mirror is unpleasant though. His neck and chest are a canvas of dark red and purple marks, the likes of which almost look like some new and horrific disease. His lips are swollen, chapped, and underneath his eyes the skin is bruised. He contemplates just hacking off his hair instead of dealing with the nightmare nest it’s become.

He turns, catches sight of long lines carved down his back and he’s a little miffed he can’t quite remember what caused him except, “Jesus Christ, that’s the spot!” It’s as he’s tracing a particularly puffy looking line on his right shoulder that he notices something that makes his stomach drop. Merlin’s not a particular forgetful man, even when drunk. He may blur the moments together, but he’s never actually been blackout drunk before. He’s certainly never gotten a tattoo while sloshed before. But as he lifts his left hand to his face, there’s an intricate, swirling black…  _ thing  _ wrapped around his fourth finger. It’s not even a real symbol, as far as he can tell, but the pain tells him it’s definitely real ink. Before he can totally process the meaning, someone is shoving past him headed straight for the toilet.

Blond hair, broad shoulders, a pert ass, all things Merlin would definitely have gone for last night. And based on the bruises around the hips, the clear bite marks on the shoulders,  _ he went for it.  _ Repeatedly and enthusiastically. The blond glances up at him and nods, blinking sleepily, and finishes pissing. Merlin waits, counts to three, but the bloke simply shoves past him to get to the sink. Merlin clocks a similar swirling mess on his finger, but the bloke is either unaware or doesn’t care as he dries his hand and saunters back out of the bathroom.

Merlin storms out after him. “What the fuck?”

Blond bubble butt is busy digging around the clothing scattered around the room and doesn’t even look at him. Merlin stalks over, snatches  _ his  _ underwear out of the bloke’s hand. “I’m talking to you!”

“Yelling at, rather,” the bloke replies. His voice is croaky, like his throat is raw, and it makes Merlin’s belly swoop. “Where’s the ointment?”

“Ointment?” Merlin asks, high pitched and strained.

The guy pulls on a sweater, a knitted thing that looks soft, and like it cost more than Merlin’s entire life. He waggles a finger at Merlin. “Tube of stuff smelling faintly like an orange danish meant to insure the ink doesn’t fade or bleed out?”

Merlin glances down, to where the sweater ends, and it’s a mistake if he’s ever made one. Nestled in curls that look like literal gold is a nice, fat little cock that’s already half hard.  _ That  _ , he remembers. It fit quite nicely in his hand and tasted like man and musk. He swallows and glances back up, only to meet a blue smirk.

“Is it as good in the daylight?” The laughter in his voice is loud and Merlin narrows his eyes. The blond doesn’t seem phased as he shimmy’s into some beautiful, tight red pants. Merlin definitely remembers those.

Thankfully, he is save from having to reply by the shrill buzzing of his phone. Merlin kicks around the mess on the floor until he uncovers his mobil. He’s greeted by Will’s loud voice when he answers. “Merl! You’re alive? Thank God! Where the bloody hell did you get off to last night?”

“Not entirely sure, but I made it back to the hotel, it seems.” Merlin looks for somewhere quiet to speak to Will, but his options are limited so he slinks into the closet. He ignores his bedmate’s laughter.

“No, mate, you didn’t. Me an’ Freya are ‘spose to head off to the boat for our honeymoon in like fifteen minutes but you’ve not been in your room or answering your phone and your sister is freaking Merl. Freaking!” In the background Merlin can hear his sister shuffling through stuff, her muffled voice high pitched. Never a good sign.

“Well, I made it to a hotel. Put Freya on.” He listens as Will grumbles, but he can hear the phone being passed.

“Merlin! The fuck are you, bro?” Freya says. Merlin pulls the phone away from his ear. “Honestly! One task, that’s all you had. And that was to be back at the hotel by noon so you could see your sister and your best mate off before they hop on a dingy and sail the Caribbean enjoying nuptial bliss!”

Merlin opens his mouth but he doesn’t get to respond. “I swear to God, Merlin. You’re the worst brother ever and I just cannot deal with you! If you aren’t there to pick us up in two weeks I promise I’ll personally burn your store down myself.” The phone clicks in his ear and then it’s just silence.

There’s a knock on the closet door that makes Merlin jump and when he exits, he’s met  by a smirk that’s rapidly becoming too familiar and very irritating. “Everything alright there Merlin?”

“How do you know my name?” Merlin snipes.

The guy shrugs. “Well, I usually asks before I go down on a bloke, and also you had to sign it on our marriage license last night.”

“Our bloody what?” Merlin shrieks. He thinks Freya would be proud at the pitch he reached.

The bloke raises a brow at him. He lifts his hand, the one with the black ink. “Yeah mate.” 

Merlin shakes his head, “No. No, no, no. See, I was here for my sister and my mate’s wedding. Not my own. I’m a happy, busy, cat father with a lovely bookshop.”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Leaves and Beans,’ where Frankfurt, a fat orange tabby, scares off page rippers. Also, your mostly happy for Freya and Will, but you secretly worry that things are gonna be weird between the three of you now.” The bloke tilts his head a bit, strokes his cheek. “I’m still not convinced you and Will have never had a ‘moment,’ because people don’t typically hit mojito’s that hard because they’re happy.”

“You’re lying. I don’t even drink mojitos!”

“No, you said. But they were the special and you’re tight on cash.”

Merlin puts a hand to his head. The pulsating behind his eye has developed into a full blown throbbing, and he thinks he might be nauseated. “How much do you know about me?”

“How much do you know about me?” The guy retorts.

Merlin throws his hands up in the air. “Nothing! Except that you woke up in my bed, or I in yours. Apparently we’re married, and you are a right royal prat!”

“Well, you got one thing right. I am royal.”

“What does that even mean?” Merlin cries.

The guy straightens up, frowning. “You, you really don’t remember anything, do you?”

Merlin shakes his head. “I mean, I vaguely remember your cock, in the stalls. That’s about all.”

The blond studies him for a long time, a look on his face that makes Merlin nervous. He’s seen brain surgeons with less focus in their gaze. “I think I can help you remember, Merlin.”

“How?”

The smirk is back, accompanied by a devilish grin that makes Merlin very nervous, while simultaneously reminding him he’s  _ very naked.  _ The blond grins at him, widely. “Atta boy! You know exactly where this is headed.”

Before Merlin can protest, the blond is yanking the expensive sweater over his head and tossing it on the floor. “You can stop me at anytime, but I promise you it’ll be just as good as last night.”

Merlin’s mind might not remember, but his body sure seems to. His chest gets tight and his breath hitches the moment the blond touches his clavicle. “Wait,” he gasp out.

His partner looks disappointed as he steps back.

Merlin shakes his head. “No, not stop. ‘Wait.’ Can I at least know your name?”

“Arthur.” He says. He doesn’t give Merlin a chance to say anything else. He leans forward and captures Merlin’s lips with his own. His hands land on Merlin’s chest, nails a firm pressure just above his collarbones. He taste… Merlin grimaces. He taste like stale alcohol and morning breath, and his lips are a little chapped. Then he bites Merlin’s lips, gently, and drags his hands down Merlin’s chest.

Arthur shifts from Merlin’s lips, to that place at the edge of his jaw. His brain shifts, and for a moment he’s in a dark place with pounding music. The mouth on his jaw is wet and insistent, and there are hands scratching under his shirt, digging at the curls on his belly. He realizes there actually are nails scratching at his belly, diggin just above his hips.

“See, it started a bit like this, Merlin. You, in those sinful black jeans at the bar.” Arthur bites his jaw, bites it hard. “Scanning the crowd, and every bloke in there knew what you were looking for. Bartender supplying you dollar mojitos you’re not really into.” He works his way towards Merlin’s ear, licking and nibbling. His fingers stay at Merlin’s hips, but he slowly pushes Merlin back. “Now, I don’t normally go for anyone not vetted, but the boys pointed you out, and I’m running out of free days.”

Arthur manages to guide them over everything so that he can press Merlin into a wall. As soon as his back hits the wall Merlin is back in the club, hands tangled in blond hair, hips pistoning fast. He jerks at the memory, and he can feel Arthur smile against his neck. “What do you remember?”

Merlin swallows, tries to think past the heat polling in his chest and lower. “I uh- the stalls. You grabbed my hand and locked the door.”

Arthur sucks at his neck, thrust against Merlin’s thigh. The material of his jeans isn’t exactly comfortable, but Merlin bucks back, desperate for  _ any  _ sort of relief. “Tsk tsk,” Arthur whispers in his ear. “You’re even more impatient. I had to buy a drink last night to get your name.”

“Such a prat,” Merlin hisses. He reaches down for Arthur’s hands, tries to push them down.

Arthur pulls his hands away, and steps back. “See, it started like that. I walked over to you, and I asked your name. You rolled your eyes and you said ‘You couldn’t handle me.’”

Merlin flushes, but it’s totally something he would say. Arthur reaches forward, flicks his left nipple and Merlin sucks in a breath.

“I said-”

Merlin cuts him off. He remembers this part. “You can’t speak to me that way, peasant.”

Arthur grins. He drops to his knees, noses at Merlin’s curls. Then he kisses the head of Merlin’s dick. Spots blur Merlin’s vision, and he scrambles for something to cling to so that he stays upright. “God, Merlin. You were a fucking vision last night. I’d watched you across the room, even before the boys spotted you and I  _ wanted.  _ I thought you’d be some demure little sub, but then I called you a peasant. I thought you were gonna punch me.”

Merlin shakes his head. “Always a better use for a mouth that filthy.” He runs a hand down his own chest, stopping in his curls. He’s afraid if he touches himself, it’ll all be over. Arthur bats his hands away, pins them to the wall. Merlin’s cock hangs in his face, heavy and thick.

“I lead you to the stall, and you hesitated. And I thought, ‘oh Christ. He’s straight. He’s testing the water. He’s going to be so shifty, so timid. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t blow the second his pants are down.” Arthur follows the insult with a long lick along Merlin’s shaft. The moan that leaves Merlin’s lips is low and long and from some deep part of him.

“Then you yanked your pants down and my eyes must’ve blown wide because you started babbling about ‘It’s okay’ and ‘Most people can’t’ and ‘Don’t worry it’s not an issue.’ And fuck Merlin, I gotta admit I was intimidated.” He grabs Merlin’s dick, weighs it in his hands. “So fucking thick, long. I knew, in that moment, I was gonna blow you, and then you were gonna fuck me with it. I wasn’t leaving until I’d had you.”

Merlin shivers. He’s not quite sure if Arthur’s hands are actually on him or if he’s remembering, but he doesn’t care.

“Tell me, Merlin. Has anyone ever tasted it all?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Most people give up.”

Arthur nods. “My jaw is still sore.” He licks his lips, winks at Merlin. His breath his hot on Merlin’s cock, and then his lips wrap around the head. He breaths, just for a moment, and it takes everything in Merlin not to thrust. Arthur experimentally flicks his tongue against Merlin’s cock, causing him to groan.

He works slowly, works his way down Merlin’s cock until he’s about half way. He has to release Merlin’s hands so he can grip his thighs. His eyes are watering a little and Merlin twist his fingers into blond curls, his chest heaving. “Listen, you can stop now. I won’t be disappointed.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and hums. Merlin can’t stop the twitch his hips give forcing himself a little father into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur digs his nails into Merlin’s thighs, but he doesn’t choke, doesn’t pull off. Instead he shifts his position so that his own knees are spread a little wider and takes a deep breath in through his nose. Merlin can feel the muscles in his throat moving and it’s a fucking weird experience, but then Arthur’s throat opens and he sinks down in one swift and impressive move until his nose is buried in Merlin’s dark curls.

Merlin isn’t at all embarrassed by the keening noise he makes. Arthur’s throat does something, might be a giggle, and then he tries to swallow. Merlin is seeing all sorts of fun colors, hands pulling at Arthur’s curls because he doesn’t know if he wants to pull him off or keep him there. “I swear-” Arthur’s hand moves quickly, releasing his thighs so that he can hold his hips steady. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last.” Arthur pulls back, lets Merlin slip from his mouth slowly. But he doesn’t release him completely. Instead he hollows his cheeks and sucks, swirls his tongue, before sinking back down. He works slowly, methodically, taking Merlin and letting him go.

“Fucking-” Merlin is gasping. He’s never felt this good this fast, and he’s certainly never been this close to the edge with so little work. He’s about to release. He’s not sure what gives him away, but Arthur’s lets him fall out of his mouth and he leans back.

“Not quite yet, Merlin.”

Disappointment rushes through Merlin, and he nearly sobs at the loss. Arthur leans forward and kisses his hip. “Last night you caught me off guard.” His voice is hoarse, but his eyes gleam.

Merlin remembers, now. The wild look on Arthur’s face when he’d grunted, when he’d spilled down his throat. Arthur had coughed, cum leaking out the corner of his swollen, red lips. Arthur of last night had been too stunned to do much more than peel the rest of his clothes off, to shove Merlin down, his own cock twitching. Merlin had readily complied.

“God, Arthur. A mouth like that’ll make a man want to marry you.” Merlin groans.

“Huh. Last night’s proposal was a bit more enthusiastic.” Arthur says as he stands. He backs away from Merlin who lets out a forlorn noise. Arthur throws him a look over his shoulder. “Oh hush. We aren’t done yet. There are still gaps in your memory, yeah?”

Merlin nods.

Arthur kicks around the sheets that’ve fallen to the floor until he finds a brown suitcase. He roots around in it, giving Merlin ample time to study his well defined back, the slope of his beautiful butt. “I can feel you objectifying me, but it’s okay, because I know where it leads. See, I’m usually a bit bossy when it comes to hook ups. Comes with the territory. Gotta make sure things are safe and clean.” He grabs something, hides it in his hands as he turns back towards Merlin. “But after your impromptu proposal, after the way you swallowed, I sort of threw caution to the wind. Mostly because I desperately wanted to know what your ass felt like, but a little bit because there’s just something about you.”

He makes his way back toward Merlin who is still braced against the wall. Arthur taps a finger against his chest, traces some of the bruises Merlin saw earlier. “Do you know how much I had to pay that cab driver, not to call the cops on us?”

Merlin bites his lips, vaguely recalling the feeling of leather under his shoulders, of pulling at Arthur’s hair and a warm tongue on his chest, teeth everywhere, raking his nails down Arthur’s back and  _ begging  _ him to move.

Arthur snorts. “I’m not expecting you to pay me back.” He pauses, “Well, not with money.”

“We made it to a chapel!” Merlin suddenly exclaims. Because he remembers, suddenly, his shirt half buttoned and being hard in his pants. A pretty girl in a teal dress and a man dressed in a disco suit. “They actually made us clean up a little, so they could take pictures.”

“And so you could sober up enough to consent to the marriage.”

Merlin flushes. But he remembers… well, not the words themselves but giggling through cheesy vows. Arthur’s hands, calloused and rough, holding his own. Stroking his thumbs over his knuckles. “The officiant thought we’d been mates for a lifetime, finally doing what we’d dreamed of.”

Arthur nods. He circles around the most prominent of the marks, one right over Merlin’s heart. “It felt, in some ways, as though we had. As if everything we were, everything we’d ever done, had been for that moment.”

He leans down, mouths over the mark, teeth pressing gently. It still aches, and Merlin cups the back of Arthur’s head. “The air was cool. You thought my skin was ice cold, so you slung your arm around me, held me close and wouldn’t let go. You said your room was close, we could walk. I didn’t really want to walk, didn’t think I could make it that far, but I didn’t want you letting go.”

“And then we passed the tattoo parlor, and you pulled me in.”  Arthur bites at place on his shoulder. The sensation burns through Merlin, all the way to his dick. Arthur must feel it pulse against his thigh because he grabs it in a slick hand and strokes, rapidly, in short, curling twist. “Neither of us knew anything about wedding ring tattoos, but the guy had a book of symbols he claimed were ancient unity bands. You picked the most god-awful mess of knots and twist, but we had no rings.” He hand is a steady, cruel force. Every time Merlin thinks he’s done, Arthur’s hand stills.

“We made it to the hotel. You pushed me onto the bed. Literally ripped my pants off.”

Arthur chuckles. “Yeah, still need to replace those, since I doubt mine’ll fit you.”

Merlin doesn’t even care. Arthur removes his hand and Merlin feels like he might actually die if he doesn’t get to release soon. He turns around, places his hands on the wall and looks over his shoulder. “C’mon then.”

Arthur looks his fill, but he shakes his head. “No. I had my fun last night.” He reaches down between Merlin’s lower cheeks, prods at his hole. Merlin gasp. He hadn’t realized how sore he was down there until that touch, but he can feel the sob building in his throat.

“Please, Arthur!”

Arthur slaps his arse, and it feels like fire. Merlin is surprised he doesn’t explode against the wall, especially when Arthur does it again, harder. He strikes Merlin six more times, firm things that echo, and Merlin really does sob. Arthur kneels back down and licks at the red welts. His tongue doesn’t sooth the flames, but it’s still a welcome sensation. “It’s my turn, Merlin. You get to do all the work this time while I lay on my back like a pretty little tart.”

He pulls away and Merlin lets his forehead rest against the wall while he tries to calm himself. He can hear Arthur moving, can hear the bed shifting. When he finally turns around, Arthur is lying on his back with his feet braced on the edge of the bed. There’s just a little sunlight filtering through the curtains, slanting across Arthur’s face. He looks a bit regal, which Merlin feels is an odd thing to think, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He rushes forward, shoves Arthur’s legs as far apart as he can.

Part of him wants to retrace the half-dream memories of last night. To take his time, sucking and licking and biting his way down Arthur. To swallow the fat cock into his mouth, and use spit slick fingers to pry open the little rosebud he sees. Part of him wants to lick and to taste that hole, to see just how much damage his tongue can do, how far apart he take Arthur without actually taking him.

He’s too desperate right now, watching Arthur use his own fingers to open himself up. He’s quick and methodical, three fingers twisting and curling. His face is screwed, eyes shut tight and mouth hanging open. He must hit that spot, because his hips buck up and his fingers fall out. “Jesus Christ, Merlin, if you don’t get over here right now I’ll divorce you the minute I’m dressed.”

Merlin doesn’t need much more prompting. He snatches the bottle Arthur had left by his hips, slicks himself up as quickly as he can. He’s got the head of his cock braced against Arthur’s hole when he hesitates. Merlin isn’t the world’s largest, not by a long shot. But he is pretty well endowed and he’s not sure how much Arthur can actually take. Arthur has run out of patience, though. He reaches down and grabs Merlin, struggles a moment with the positioning, and then he’s pulling so that Merlin breeches him.

Merlin isn’t particularly religious, but he sees heaven when the warm heat of Arthur engulfs him. He’s trying, honest he is, to be gentle, but he looses what little control he had when Arthur flexes around him. All he can think about his how tight, slick, and  _ warm  _ , Arthur is. How it feels like his body was made for Merlin. He thrust, hard and fast. Builds a rhythm he’s not sure he can maintain, but Arthur doesn’t seem to mind. He growls at Merlin. “Move, goddammit. Faster.”

His hips lift off the bed, carried by Merlin’s thrust, and his hands are clawing at the sheet. “Holy shit, Merlin.” His breathing is labored and Merlin is surprised Arthur can still form words. Merlin certainly couldn’t.  “Fuck, Merlin. Never shoulda let you bottom last night.”

Arthur’s wrecked voice causes Merlin to jerk, his whole body propelled forward. The force of it shoves Arthur up the bed some, and he gives a pleased cry. “Fuck, I’d have proposed if we’d done this first. Oh my god, Merlin you have got to move.”

Merlin hadn’t even realized he’d stilled, but he’s so close to the edge he’s not sure he  _ can  _ move again. Arthur manages to prop himself up on his elbows, shifting them both so that two low groans ring out. “Merlin, I swear to all deities if you don’t get a fucking move on, if you don’t cum in me  _ now,  _ I’m going to find your buddy Will and have him finish the job.”

Merlin snarls at him. “So fucking bossy.” He thrust, once, twice, three more times and then he sees white. Everything explodes in him when he releases, and it feels like he goes on forever. One load after the other, until he’s sure Arthur isn’t going to be able to hold it all. When he can finally breath again, his own chest is covered in Arthur’s release, and he can still hear Arthur’s cries in his ears.

He pulls out, slowly and carefully. Arthur winces, hisses, but he doesn’t move. He looks so beautiful, Merlin thinks, splayed like that. Legs spread, chest red and heaving and covered in marks. Positively unbecoming with cum leaking from him, but his face is blissed out and relaxed. Almost boyish.

Merlin doesn’t know what prompts him to do so, but he reaches for Arthur’s hand, kisses the black ink. “You’re absolutely stunning, you know that?”

Arthur snorts. “So sentimental once your sated.” He pats the bed beside him. “C’mon. Rest with me.”

They’re disgusting. Still reeking of last night; of sweat, and a foreign city and alcohol and smoke. They reek of this morning; more sweat and an unfamiliar bed and release. Merlin thinks they should really get cleaned up, should shower and dress and… figure things out. Arthur tugs him down though, wrestles him until Merlin’s head is on his chest, his legs caught between Arthur’s.

Arthur kisses his temple. “I can feel your brain, Merlin. And I’m far too tired to bathe. So we'll compromise. Lie with me, just a moment, and then you can run us a hot bath.”

Merlin’s eyes are heavy but he has enough energy to scoff. “And why should I be the one to run the bath?” Arthur’s heart beat is calming, and it’ a soothing rhythm beneath Merlin’s cheek.

“As I told you last night, Merlin. I’m the Prince of Wales. I can’t be arsed to run my own bath.” Arthur wraps his arms tighter around Merlin, locks his body so he can’t move. “Before you freak out. Again, I might add. We agreed to try and make it work.” He runs a hand through Merlin's hair, and Merlin can feel him drifting to sleep. “So pretty, my little Merlin. So pretty and silly, if you think I’m ever going to let you go.”

“Made for you,” Merlin whispers. It feels right. Those words, this moment, the ink on his finger. He’s not sure how or why, but some part of him feels as though he was always working towards this moment, and it's such a ridiculous, light feeling it makes him shiver. When he shivers, everything feels settled, like it’s falling into place. “What happens in Vegas….” he murmurs as they drift to sleep.

 


End file.
